Love sick
by Peppermint-Poppy
Summary: Series of one-shots. Newest: "Oh. My. GOD." She hates to sound like som hipster-teenage-valley-bimbo, but this is just hilarious. "You didn't do what I think you did. Please, say you didn't..." College AU. Soma.
1. Sickness doesn't have to always be bad

**Disclaimer: I don't own Soul Eater**

* * *

"Eat up, Soul."

"No."

"Come on Soul, don't be a baby. Eat it."

"Shit, Maka I already said I won't eat it, so I _won't eat it_," he replies swiftly and then glares at her back. She is still turned to the stove, so it's safe to flip her, something he wouldn't have the courage for, if she was facing him. But he is angry at the moment and this is getting ridiculous.

"Soul you have to eat if you want to get back on your feet quickly," she replies, "So eat it and I will let you go."

"I know that I have to eat if I want to get better," he growls at her back, "But I also know that if I eat one more spoon I'm gonna hurl." Yes, and that's a promise. Why couldn't she get that into her pretty little head? S_he isn't the one who is sick_, she _doesn't know_ how his stomach feels, or _what it would_ do if he stuffed it too much. She is not a doctor, and certainly will _never_ be one.

"As far as I am concerned you don't have a stomach flu." She then turns to face him, abandoning the vegetables she was choping on board in favor to glare in his face. Eyeing him and his posture she probably decides that it's not worth her nerves, and sighs, feeling like if she was dealing with a kid half his age. He knows he is probably acting like one, like a spoiled brat, with his sullen face and arms crossed. He doesn't care. He will stand up and hold his own , damn it. She won't throw him around as she pleases, no, _not anymore._

"Eat it." She is using her meister voice, her stock of patience probably running thin. He knows that this can escalate very quickly to very dangerous waters, possibly life threatening, because she has now a big supply of knives right at her hand just ready to be used.

But he will try to fight like a man while he still has the courage to do so (which admittedly doesn't have to last for long) .

"No." Watch and learn. This was the response worth of man in his never ending fight against true beast, 5'3 tall, with scary eyes and currently handling great quantities of amo.

The Beast sighs again. He briefly wonders when the rational part of her brain will shut off, only to let her violent tendencies show, and if she will breath fire. He is looking at her and she at him, both _of them_ waiting for something.

"I have an agreement," she then offers, her eyes softening a tad. Her smile is warm and he knows she is doing it only to reasure him, which has a totally opposite effect. He squint his eyes a little trying to decipher the secret trick behind her words and expects her to lay out some trap. But he is willing to listen to her , if it lets him rest for a while from that _soup_. "Okay, listenin'. "

She smiles radiantly at him and then proceeds to drop the bomb. "Eat ten more spoons and I will let you off the hook."

Huh. That's not that bad. Hmmmh. And totally not Maka like. He kicks his brain to work properly and find the trap that is for sure hiding somewhere. He totally awaited something along the lines of 'Eat it or I will bash your skull inside' or 'If you don't eat it in next five seconds I will personaly feed you whole pot' and also an evil laughter in the end. But hey as they say don't look gift horse in the mouth.

So he nodds slowly and her smile gets even bigger. Only know he starts to suspects that 'The agreement ' was her plan from the moment he said he won't eat. What if he didn' t have to eat at all? Stupid meisters and their stupid ways of tricking him into things he doesn't want to do. His hand comes to life and he grabs the spoon.

Maka's smile now takes up half her face.

He can see the mischief in her eyes as she turns back to the stove to resume her dinner preparing. Yeah, her plan was great indeed, he has to acknowledge that. He should have just standed up and walked to his man cave when there was still time. Now he realizes that he, the nothing-suspecting prey has fallen a victim to her Evil Plan, realizing his mistake a moment too late. And now he has to eat. Fuck his life.

But lamenting won't help him now. He rapidly lifts the first spoon to his mouth and then secon and third with only few seconds inteval between each, determined to have the experience off his back as quickly as possible. He comes to The Tenth Spoon in no time gupling it down with triumphant feeling and punch in the sky.

His stomach reminds him painfully that he shouldn't be doing things that make his guts move around too much.

"You are still not eating, Soul." What the…He ate his share of agreement! She has no right to scold him this time. Only now it occurs to him that she was turned the other way whole time and therefore couldn't see his great victory. He wants to facepalm himself into oblivion.

"But Maka I…"

"No buts Soul. We agreed that you will eat." Okay, her tone is getting dangerous and whole situation is getting out of his hands and is accelerating rapidly to a not really pleasant outcome for his cranium. He has to believe she _wouldn't hit_ a sick person. He wants to believe it _so much._

"But Maka I've already eaten what we said I would eat," he tries to defend himself with small voice. He should have made her see that he really ate, but it's too late now. Well he has to make her believe somehow.

He does a little prep talk in his mind. 'Okay Soul, time to man up. You are a cool guy and if you won't win this argument because you are right for once, you can just give a goodbye to the Heaven-of-All-the-Cool. You will apparently go there in short time seeing as Maka's eyelid does that telltale twitching motion. Don't let the dread show in your eyes, she will sense it…'

She sighs, and he pretends that the squeak that comes out of his mouth didn't ever happen.

Yeah, say your goodbye to Cool-Heaven.

She sighs again, but the sound is more like steam from boiling kettle. He finds her eyes and they are flashing dangerously, so he takes the spoon, scoops up a little and puts it into his mouth.

"That was only half of spoon." Yeah, trust his meister to notice something like that. He rolls his eyes but scoops up another half spoon to make up for the other half he ate before. What he wouldn't do because of his meister.

"One." And now she is counting it for him like one would for a little punk that tried to trick them. It's not funny but Maka is grining wolfishly. She got him to do as she said, after all.

"Two."

"Three." He makes a show of holding his nose and grimacing when gulping down.

"Four." He ignores the churning in his stomach and brings the fifth spoon to his lips.

"Five."

"Six." The countig is getting lame and so he tells her. But it's probably hard to take him seriously with the nasal way he has said it, due to his still held nose.

"Seven."

"Eight."

"Nine." Spoons Seven throught Nine leave bitter taste in the back of his mouth. He thinks it may be his gag reflex saying _it's Hello_.

"Aaaand ten. There, there, that wasn't that hard, was it?" She pats him on the head like he is some freakish overgrown puppy, then goes back to her vegetable and meat murdering (he ignores that the meat is most likely and most preferably already dead). He wants to tell her off, but he fears that if he opens his mouth, he will have to apologize for vomiting all over her.

"Go lay down Soul, I will bring you tea in few minutes." So he stands up, steadies his wobbly knees by leaning on the chair. He can do this. One step at time. His grandpa slippers make weird shuffling noise on the kitchen tiles. He sticks his tongue out at Maka's back as he walks by her to his room. Well more like shuffles around her.

He follows the same pattern with every stride he takes. Take a step. Stop. Rest for a sec. Breathe in. Take another step. He continues like this safely to the kitchen doorstep and then to the small hall. He thinks he may be safe for now.

And then the first wave of nausea hits him.

He has to lean heavily on the wall. 'Come on Soul, just few more steps, you can already see your door, don't give up man, _don't give up_….'

It's a good thing he is currently passing the bathroom door and another good thing that the said door are open, because his force-fed dinner would have ended on the floor of their hall. Even if the thought of Maka cleaning it later with disgusted face is a little entertaining. After all she was the one who started it all. But it's kind of hard to do the victory dance at the thought of almost-revenge when one is currently clutching on to the toilet bowl puking his guts out. He doesn't know how he managed to run to the toilet considering all his previous shuffling. Miracles _do_ happen sometimes.

He hears Maka's mad scramble for him and she is by his side in an instant , holding back his hair, a stream of constant apologies coming from her mouth.

When the stomach cramps finally decrease he leans heavily on the side of their white cupboard. Maka asks him if he wants water to which he nodds. The coldness of lacquered wood on his back and neck is like heaven and he feels his stomach slowly settling down. She handles him water and he takes some in his mouth, rolling it a few times around before spitting it in the toilet.

She is sitting quietly near him head bowed down.

"I am sorry Soul, I didn't know this would happen. I'm truly sorry," she murmurs constantly. He coughs a little to clear his throat,. It's hard to stay mad at her, when guilt is rolling of her wavelenght in waves, so he rasps out an 'It's okay.' And the he tells her that she should probably never be a doctor for the sake of world.

"Okay," comes her soft reply. Her eyes are even softer as she glances up at him. Her smile is the softest of the soft, and is screaming that there maybe can be something more than friends between them and he can't help his own smile from growing, and he gets that weird ticklish sensation in his stomach and…

With a groan he launches himself at the toilet again, for the next few rounds of the Soul-Hurling-His-Stomach-Out. His meister cool hands are back on his forehead and wow the way she pets his back feels really nice…

The butterfies are back with vengeance, making him heave again.

And as he rests, draped over toilet he can't help but to curse his love sick self for creating them.

Really, stupid butterflies.

* * *

**A.N. : So yeah... My first fanfic. Hope I did good enough. Actually this is inspired by my Mama who always makes me eat even if I tell her I don't want to. Lst time she made me eat only ****'Five more****' spoons. Two times. As you already know reply and review, if you find any mistakes. **

**Reviews pay for coffee!**


	2. Goodbye

**A.N: So yeah. I did this. It was in my mind for weeks, and layed in my computer for _days_. I worked my ass of on this one... Hope you will like it. Warning: Mayor character death. Or maybe two. Sorry.**

* * *

When she left him everything died with her. Everythinge was silent. Without life. Everything was dull, because there was no more vibrant green that would enlighten his day, or lift his darkness and keep him going on.

When she died he wished he could go too, to the place where she was, where he could hold her and kiss her again.

It was true, that they shared a beautiful life blessed with children, filled with laughter and happy memories. It was life full of hope, hope that one day, their children will live in the good world, world worth of living in.

He remembers, all those years back,when they were still fighting the evil, how she woud talk about her hopes of better world, her hopes of living a life without nightmares, of dying old in her bed without scares. Beside him.

Even if her hope had left her sometimes, she, _they_, still managed to get it together again. Restitch it togethr after Blackstar died. Restich it after her Papa and after Stein left them. After Kilik did. After Liz.

Restriping it again and again, and again, and again, until it was only a thin cobweb in the back of her mind. But it still was there, and it grew as their peacefull years progressed. Because one day, there came a breaking point. The lifethreatening fights grew more rare. The witches settled down. People, normal people, were educated about corrupted souls, trained to see the symptoms, to see the bad in others. And after, everything went better. It was life that they wished for themselves, even if some of them weren't there to see it.

They had their first kid after four years of peace. He remembers how Maka's eyes shone brightly when their daughter came to this world, as he holded her for the first time. He remembers how her eyes shone as she saw their daughters daughter. Remembers bright light, light that leaked from her very soul, when she holded her grand son for the first time.

Because her soul was the only thing that hadn't changed not a bit throught the years. Her hair did. Her face did. Tt had wrinkled and gotten splashed with little freckless. Her hands shook sometimes, when she worked too much in their little garden, the skin on them paper-thin and old- _so old_. Even her eyes changed- telling a story of life full of battle and bravery and her sacrifices, she had to make.

She died like she wanted to. Peacefully. Not like Star or Liz did- not in fight.

The memory was still fresh, oozing pain whenever he dared to get closer to that sacred little space in his mind. Even with all the years that had gone by, it still hurt.

They were sitting on their werand, on comfortable plastic vowen bench, sun slowly setting in front of them. It was late summer, one with warm air, full of bees and birds flying around. She was reading a book, one he had seen her read thousand times, her hair pulled into low bun on her scalp, glasses riding low on her nose.

He watched the sun set in the reflexion of her glasses, watched as it dusted the silver strands of her hair, rimming her head with gold. He hummed one of his tunes, little something he picked from her soul earlier that day.

She looked up at the sun and then at him, smiled softly and asked for a cup of tea. He brought her one, green tea as she liked, and an orange juice for him. She used to make fun of him because, because, really, they were supposed to be serious war veterans, who by absolutely no means could drink _juice._ Only Tea. Or coffe. Maybe hot chocolate?

She set the book down, in her lap, carefully marking the page, and craddled the mug in her palms, blowing of the steam. "Beautiful, isn't it?" She asked him, eyes trained at the smiling sun. It was quite unusual to see it that way, without it's stupid looking, tired and drooling face.

"Yeah," he breathed out.

There was a comfortable silence, in which they watched the sky coulour all the shades of red and orange. They didn't need words to say what the wanted, because they were one soul. One mind.

"I love you, Soul." He still had his eyes on the sky, but reached over and took her small palm in his hand, intervining their fingers.

"Love you too." He didn't see her smile, but he knew it was still there, her soul giving a small tug on his.

"Let's just watch."And they sat like that, quietly, recalling special memories and sending them back and forth to each other throught their link. Time passed like that-calmly, until the bottom of the sun touched the horizont.

Then it came. A sharp pain, mindnumbing, coursed throught his body. Only a moment, a second that left him out of his breath, gasping, fighting to get air into his lungs. His vision blanked, only seeing black with red dots for a moment...

He knew what happenen, beacuse he couldn't feel her anymore, and he knew what it meant. He hated that he knew.

He didn't want to look, didn't want to, but he _knew_, and he had to see, and at the same time didn't want to confirm the obvious, confirm what his soul told him. That she wasn't there anymore.

She was leaning softly ahgainst the backrest, her head lulled to the side. No.

No. He refused to believe...No, just _NO._

He shaked her, softly, even when he knew it was futile.

He didn't, he couldn't stop himself from calling out her name. Maybe he believed that she would lift her head and smile at him, tell him that this was only some cruel joke, he didn't know. Everything but not this, _please. _

He took her in his ams, pressing her against his chest and cradling her face in his palms. His tears ran freely down his face, his shoulders shaking with the force of the _knowledge._

Her book fell out of her lap, landing on the wood with an resonating thud.

"Maka? Maka. Hey..."

_No, please, no. No. Maka, come, come here, come back, I'm still here, please come, come back. Don't leave me, no. No. NO. No, no, no, no..._

"Maka!"

He shouted it, her name, letting the world see his pain, see that she was no longer with him. That it broke him, left him shattered to pieces, bleeding and cut...

Their children came, mourning with him. Their friends came, saying their condolescences. Her students came, old and younger ones, to see her for the last time. There were so many people on her funeral. Her students, people they once saved, their friends, even shinigami came to say goodbye to his long-term friend. But it was all lost to him. They weren't what he wanted to see the most again.

* * *

A week later, he had finally gotten himself together enough to go back to their house. Everything was as he left it. Even the book, her book, was still lying where it had fallen so, _so_ long ago.

It took him another week and half to pick it up. Because everything he had seen reminded him of her, and he was hurt_, so hurt_. He bended his old knees, reaching out for the hard-cover, when something slipped from between the pages.

It was a letter. Many letters. One for each of their kids, for Sam and Chloe, and Alex. One for Tsubaki and Patty, For Kid... But the first one was for him.

He could't help but smile, as his blurry eyes followed each word. They were words of goodbye, but also hope. That one time, they will see each other again. He believed it, because Maka, his Maka was always the one with true and good words.

* * *

Even now, ten years after, he still cried when he readed it. Like now. The paper was fondled so many times, getting wrinkly and thin, yellowed by all the times he caught it between his fingers to read her last words again.

He knew them from heart, each one burned in his mind, but he stilll had to see them. For they were something she created with her hands, wrriten with her own soul. He looked at it trying to find what he needed, to figure this out.

_Soul, _

_I know that this hurts. But you need to stay strong for me, okay? _

_I love you, I love you so much Soul. It pains me to leave you like this. Behind. _

_I knew what would happen. Let me explain..._

Her imaginary voice told him in his head, that Kid came in earlier that week, when he was out with their son. That Kid came to tell her that she would need to go, go to the place far off, even if it was strictly forbidden for him to do so, to tell a mortal the date of their death. But Kid felt it would be right to give her time to prepare her farewell, to write what she needed to be said.

_I used to be so good with words. Now, I'm left, looking at the blank pages. My head is so full of everything I want to tell you. But nothing feels worth enough of you, for you... _

The same as nothing that came for him ever felt good enough for her. So much things they had in common.

_I hope you can forgive me..._

He did, he already did, all those years ago.

_I hope for so many other things. I hope that one day you will be happy again. I hope that nothing happens to our grand kids. _

_I hope... No I believe that we will meet agian. In the sky perhaps? In stars? I don't know, I never asked anyone..._

He hoped too, that they would meet again. It didn't matter where or when, just that it would happen. Her letter continued with words of love, of what he meant to her. How his soul had never let her down. How he cared for her, played out his soul to her and protected her and just _how much it meant_...

_This is not a farewell, Soul. This is only a little goodbye, for the time that would keep us apart. _

Kid had wisited him three days ago. What he told him made his soul shudder, because what if she wasn't right about the meeting again part? But maybe, maybe, it was finally time to reunite again.

He had readed her letter countless times these days looking for something, a clue of what he was supposed to do, how he was supposed to say _his_ goodbye. And then his eyes landed upon them, on his salvation, on his key:

_Your music was full of anger and bitterness when we first met. Full of despair. But at the same time it was raw, and beautiful- it was you. It filled me with what I needed most at times: with will and power to figh, with hope and confidence, and as the time progressed, it insinuated me the words I needed. It made me realise just how much of nothing I was without you. Your piano always told who you were.._

And just as that he realized. He knew how. Because. just as much as Makas ace were words, his were music notes.


	3. Camera abuse

**A.N: So I've did another update day after the second one. Yay! This is a silly something I have invented and stored it away moths ago. It was lying around in the storage room of my mind, so I said to myself: To hell with it! I have written it partly at school (bad me!) and the rest in the safety of my room. Warning: Contains swearing, mentions of minor adult themes (such as self pleasure and _toys)_ and Blair!**

**Discaimer: Because I had forgotten to write a disclaimer in prewious chapter, I now Claim that I disclaim my ownership of: characters, ambient, zanies critter cat toys, Nikon and... that should be all. The plot is mine. **

**Rewiews pay for coffee!  
**

* * *

She briefly wondered, as she tried to jinggle out the keys from her pocket, just what exactly were her kittens doing. Perhaps getting all sweaty and having fun in Maka-chans bed?

Hm. _As if_. She snorted to herself. The thought was a bit entertaining, the blonde kitten was too much of a prude sometimes. She would never let anything like that happen (even if Bu-tan knew exactly, what the small scythe-meister mumbled in her sleep, about her weapon, it was precious).

She balanced her paper-bags full of milk goodies and new toys on her hip, as she tried to stuff the key in it's hole. Really, how did humans use it and hadn't gotten crazy? She tried to push the key in to the door again, with no succes.

The hole was too tiny, she couldn't angle the key right, and, wait, was it even the right key? She growled lightly and choose the other key, one with pink mark. This had to be the one.

Or no?

She finally grew frustrated with the offensive, stupid lock, and opened it with a spell. Even if Maka- chan had strictly forbidden using of magic in the household (she had to admit that the Seetrought-Wall incident was a little rough,. It was totally _not_ her fault, she just wanted to give scythe-boy a little something for his birthday).

Something clicked in the lock and the door opened slowly, revealing a peacefully looking apartment. _This was why Bu-tan prefers using the window. _

She stepped inside, wanting to call out to Maka and show her her newly bought _toys_. She had been pestering the poor girl with sex related things for over three months, and she finally had feeling her Plan was working! The girl had been certainly thinking more about the naughty little things with her partner...

Blair surpressed her need to skip from joy.

She padded silently in the kitchen, setting the grocery bag on table and putting the milky things in fridge. She whistled happily_. Wonder what will Maka-chan do when she sees the penis-sleeve._

_...Or the puffy red handcuffs. Nya~ _

Se proceeded to unpack the groceries, hiding her salmon in The Secret Stash under the sink, on the bottom of cupboard (because, really, scythe boy was like a dog, he could smell fish within three miles radius, and no threat ever stopped him from eating it).

And then she realized that it was awfully quiet in the flat. No music resonated throught the walls, and there couldn't be heard any shrieks of 'Fuck, Soul, turn it down, I am trying to study, asshole!' booming in the apartment.

Weren't they supposed to be already home? She was pretty sure that school ended already, and Maka's meister training should be, too, over...

She strayed her ears, and sure she could hear... soft snores? They were coming from living room... She had to investigate. She changed into her cat form with a puff of purple smoke, her hat jumping up and down, as it changed it's extent.

Her tiny paws made their way into the living room. Ears were like a satelites, twitching on top of her head. Everything now sounded clearer, more loud. Sure enough, what she heard were snores. Of scythe-boy of course.

But she could hear another one now, soft breathing, something she didn't pick up while human. She stopped next to the couch, but couldn't see behind the armrest, from her low point of view. The snores were loud, interwining with soft breathing. Surely it couldn't mean that Maka and Soul...

Were sleeping together at couch.

Fully clothed.

Oh, the Disappointment.

She sat down on the armrest, heavy despair over the incompetence of the two weighing her shoulders down. _This was just another marred chance among milion of others._

Maka and Soul were lying on the couch, limbs interwined. Her back to his chest, with Soul hugging her from behind. His face was pressed into the back of her neck. Both of them had expressions of great content, Soul's nearing the one of pure bliss. Blair's eyes grew to the side of saucers.

_Ohhh, hew kitties were shoooo cute._ She squeezed her cheeks with her paws, trying to ventilate the overload of cuttenes. _Ohh sho, sho cute_.

Yep. She definitely had to take a photo.

She jumped down, grateful for the pads on her paws- they didn't make any sound as she made her way to Maka's room, to fetch her Nikon, her tail swishing gracefully behind her.

She pretended to be a ninja. Silent and deadly.

Oh the _things_ she would tease Maka-chan with when she woke up. She was definitely deadly, like a virus(she liked viruses, the word always made her think of that tiny-jinggly-coulourful pet toys), making everyone's temperature in her path rise.

She jumped on the armrest again, the camera slowly levitatinng behind her back. She cocked her head to the side, calculating the angle from which would the photos come out the best. The camera lifted itself slightly above her, taking in picture the sleeping couple behind.

As first Blair wanted to take one of the tree of them together. She smiled at the camera holding out her paw in peace sign. Camera flashed. Consider it a selfie.

She lyed on her back then, forming a heart with her front paws. Camera flashed once again, as it took a photo. She entertained herself like this for several more minutes, pretending to be a feline model she had once wanted to be, her poses getting more and more ridiculous with passing minutes.

She was preparing to strike yet another breathtaking pose when she heard a groan.

_Cat-shit!_

She stilled on the armrest, her back paws sticking up awkwardly in the air, in an uncomfortable pose, resembling a half-shoulder-stand yoga position.

Were they waking up?

She slowly sat up, careful not to disturb the reaper-combo any further. She looked at them, trying to see what was happening. Carefully and silently observing.

But it wasn't necessary to be so careful. They weren't waking up. _No,_ it was something _much_ better, she realized.

Oh how she felt the urge to do an Evil Witch Laughter at the moment. Really cool witch laugh, or perhaps a little satanistic giggle. Because Soul, the cool guy, was currrently clutching Maka, his meister, to his chest for a dear life, with enough force to squezee out her soul. And...

He was dry humping. Her butt.

_Pffffft._ So, that wasn't a groan. It was a _moan_...

She grinned like a chesire cat. _Did this thing have a video recorder in it_?

She was so evil, she could sense it in her fur... It made her nose twinkle with _fizzy_ mischief.

"Makahh," came another moan from the white haired teen,startling her out of her oh-so-evil plans. Just what was he dreaming about?

"You'r so tigh'." Yeah. Nooow she could picture just _what_ exactly was going on in his head. _Way to go scythe-boy!_

He was mumbling incoherentlty now, stream of makas and fucks and ahhs coming from his mouth. His face was contorted, into expresion of great pleasure one was wearing when he was.. well, when he was pleasuring himself.

This was the moment. She had to take things in her paws _right_ now. Else Maka-chan might wake up, and she didn't want to imagine what would happen to the poor boy, once she realised just what exactly he had been doing to her butt.

She happily lifted her front paws crying out an 'Pum-pumpkin,' succesfully making the girl fall asleep harder. It probably had an effect on Soul, too. Well it didn't mater to her, and apparently, neither it did to him, seeing as he merrily continued his epic pelvic movements.

It didn't dawn on her that she might have just digged her own grave, because _this _was precious.

_Was the thing recording? _

_Oh, yeah it totally was. Time for an evil laughter..._

Soul was getting closer, she could tell. His movements grew rougher and bolder. Maka's name was now the only thing he could say, a constant mantra coming from his mouth. It was a bit weird to warch him getting it on, on his unmoving meisters butt. Kind of like some kinky shitty porno...

And then she felt it. Sparks of resonance ran throught the air like a shockwave , fluffing her fur out, making her look more like a big purple plushy ball. She hated it instantly, hated how the statics ran to the end of her whiskers, little bolts of blue energy.

But wait.

Wait. Wait, wait, wait, wait. Maka and Soul were resonating. They were resonating. Resonating.

This could only mean only one thing. Maka would know what Soul was dreaming about_. Maka would know. Oh, no. This could make everything go to hell_... She winced sympatethically, at the vision Souls upcoming pain.

And then she heard Maka's own moan join in with Soul's. _What in the satans tail!?_

She looked down at the couple. Soul was still crushing Maka against his chest. But this time Maka was... wriggling against him too. Apparently they were both... enjoying themselves? Maka-chan was certainly sounding like that.

_Oooh the poor soul, she will be teased so so so mercilessly. She could already picture her red face. Che, che, che. Bu- tan will never make her forget..._

With a final shudddering moan Soul ended his moving, flopping down against Maka. Blair surpressed her laugh. _This was going to be fun._

* * *

One of his eyes opened lazily, staring ahead. This had to be the greatest dream he ever had. He usually didn't get to the end of this kind of fantasies (only when he had some quality time alone), waking up before it came to the best part. But this time... this time it was something else.

He stared ahead of himself, wearing the doopiest grin he could manage. This experience had left him contented and utterly happy. It was full of green eyes and long legs and, oh, her glisten...

His vision cleared, and he was greeted with something he didn't expect at all- his meisters neck.

_Fuck. What the Fuck. You gotta __be shitting me._

But that was Maka's hair tickling him in his nose. It was Maka's body he was holding so closely to his own_. It was Maka's butt, his meisters butt he was pressing his groin into._

_..._

_She was going to kill him. Murder him, chop his dick of, and then take him to the infirmary, just to throw him out the window. Oh Fuck. _His lifespan had just decreased terrifyingly.

The sun reflected from something, and hit him square in the eyes, startling him out of his self-condolescencies. The hell? Was that... a camera flying in the air? And, just what was the purple... fluffy something on the armrest?

"Satisfied scythe-boy?"

He resisted the urge to groan and facepalm himself with his scythe. Even if it was maybe the best thing to do, to kill himself mercifully, before his torture began. The angel of his future death stirred in his arms. Maybe it would be better to not move too much...

He looked at the thing, which was, as he relized Blair, trying for his gaze to be as menacing as possible. He hoped slightly that she hadn't seen everything. Because he could feel the dampness on his crotch starting to cool, so it had to be a one hell of Show...

At his questioning look Blair said : "Oh scythie, you have no idea... Bu-tan came in and saw her two kittens lying together on the couch, Nya. And then, Boom! Scythe-boy starts rubbing himself all over Maka-chan, and Bu-tan is like 'oh my gosh I knew this would happen... "

The cat was ridiculously happy, and he didn't understand. (Why was she so fluffy anyway?)

"Stop. Just stop. First of all what _is that_?" he pointed with his pinkie, hoping to not make any jerky full-body moves, in the direction of what he so desperately hoped wasn't Maka's camera.

"Oh, that's Maka's camera."

"...You didn't."

"Yes, Bu-tan did!"

"You stupid cat!" he hissed throught clenched teeth, his tone the lowest as possible. "Delete it. Now!"

"No scythie, Bu-tan is not gonna do that. Bu-tan wants to see Maka-chans face whe she shoves it to her later." And she added a funny looking hoppity-hop, granted that she still looked like a baloon with little atached, funny looking apendages. It was probably trying to be a joyfull skip, maybe?

He hissed out threats and promises of what was to come if she didn't delete the fucking photos or videos or whatever the hell it was _right now_. But she didn't seem to take him seriously, eyes twinkling happily throught his whole speech.

"Don't worry scythe-boy, Maka-chan already knows what you did to her. Nya"

He stilled immediately. What did she just say?

"What did you just say?" He hated to repeat himself, even if the originals were only his thoughts.

"Bu-tan said, that Maka-chan already _knows, _what scythe boy had thought _about _when humping her." She repeated.

He only stated a 'what' in response.

She grinned at him and continued. "Wellp, as you can see, you two resonated in your sleep, _but_ donchu worry, Bu-tan thinks that Maka may have also liked your little mating dance."

He repeated his dry 'what', his mind working on digesting the words, that had been just laid out on the table.

_Maka did enjoy it? But, how did Blair know that? How did she even know they were resonating?_

He asked her exactly that. She only stared at him and than at herself, saying that 'As you can see, it electrified my fur'. He didn't want to ponder on what exactly she meant with it, only three words resonating throught his mind:

_Maka enjoyed it, Maka enjoyed it, Maka enjoyed it... _

"Also Bu-tan might have used a sleep spell on Maka, and she thinks it might be wearing off to leave now"

True to her words, his meister stirred in her sleep, her eyes moving behind her eyelids.

"Bye scythe-boy, Bu-tan expects you to clear up things by tommorow morning. If you know what she means..." She completed it with a wink, and he understood exactly what she meant.

Blair stood up, hopped on the backrest of the couch, just out of his reach, merrily avoiding his attempts at grabbing her and cleaning up the floor with her.

Last thing he could see, was a very round, and very happy cat jumping out of their window, followed closely by a flying camera.

_Great._

_Now what?_

He couldn't exactly jump of the window like Blair did moments ago.

Except that he could. Yeah what a wonderful plan. Time to get it working.

Step one: distangle himself from his rappidly waking meister.

Step two: padd silently to his man-cave, the assurance of safety.

Step three: shove as many life-necessary thing to his shoulder bag.

Step four: not cringe at the horrified shriek coming from the living room.

Step five: check the closure of his door, then double check again.

Yes, a wonderful plan indeed. Except now he was stuck in his room, with angry meister thudding at his door, ocassionally kicking it, and demanding to now just 'why the fuck was her butt damp!?'

So now he was stuck with only two options. To stay, and have his cock handled to him on a silver plate, or to go and jump out of the window, probably breaking every bone in his body. He would choose the second one, thank you.

So he opened the widow and prayed for whatever god above him, to not break any escape-necessary limbs. He closed his eyes and took a deep brath and jumped.

* * *

He was lucky. One Lucky boy. He managed to land right between the black trash bags with a 'flop!', sucesfully saving all his body parts.

He could just hear his door being kicked open by some alien force. _Just in time_. The said alien leaned out of the window, screaming profanities at him and his dick.

He quickly scrambled out of the trash bin, and made a dash for the nearest street, because _FUCK _he could see her sitting on the window sill, legs dangling, preparing herself to jump after him.

* * *

Needless to say, when he finally made it to the apartment, eight hours later, hours of constant hiding and running because _she could be anywhere, h_e was just happy to dive into the shower and go lay down, Maka or not. He was squeezed clean of every drop of energy. _Let him be damned._

What greeted him took him by surprise. Maka was sitting calmly, no movement present, on the couch. Her bangs covered her eyes, and her tank top hanged off of her right shoulder. He might have tought of her as cute, if she hadn't tried to eunuch-ate him this very evening.

She stood up and he steeled himself for the coming pain, closing his eyes. But none came, only a soft hand on his cheek, pleasantly warm after the night out.

"Blair showed me the _thing._"

"Huh?"

"The video. I may have been a bit hypocritic about it, but I just... I was angry at myself, that I've let the resonance go and..."

"And?"

"...Let me show you..."

And even warmer lips pressed against his.


	4. Poison

_**So, song fic inspired by the Alice Cooper's song Poison. **_

_** A thing from my life: I started to read SoulEater manga once again. Yay. And I discovered that *Spoilers Alert* Noah is, in fact, Eibon. Holly, holly shit! Now everything makes sense! **_

_**Only twenty chappies till the end (T-T).**_

_**Warning: maybe swearing, minor adult themes, misspelling... **_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own SoulEater, nor the song Poison. **_

* * *

_**Your cruel device, Your blood like ice.**_

It was cruel. Totally cruel and all sorts of unfair.

That he had to cope up with this...this _torture._

He hated it and loved it at the same moment. Loved how her shins, folded in _his_ lap, glistened in the blue light of TV, how the light danced across her features, casting deep shadows over her mouth and eyes. But, those legs...

Long, silky, freshly shaved, just ready to be wrapped around his waist...

He shook his head, because, wow this was cascading _down _very quickly, and possibly to the torturing part of this heaven. He stirred slightly and tried not to think about how the lean muscle of her thighs would feel when he runned his palm alongside of it, or, how it would look like glistening from sweat settled by his side when she rode his... _No, no, no, quick! Turn around thoughts, don't go in there..._

But the damage was already done. He quivered a little and tried to shy away his crotch from The Legs of his Doom in between his tighs.

Of course his meister had to notice this. She gave him a funny look, clearly saying 'what's wrong?' with a tilt of her eyebrows. 'I hate when my leg heater wiggles'.

He tried to scramble out of the death grip of her feet-she pressed them down on his knees, like a five ton metal sinker, when she saw he was trying to get away. He squirmed a little more, like a overgrowed worm, and then tried to grab her legs to shove them out of his way. Which wasn't that great move at all.

Of course, Maka was strong as horse and never stepped out of the fight.

This... little battle (in his case a attempt to get away from Maka-Chop, in her case... a self-entertaining activity, maybe?) ended up with her cold feet shoved in his face and, partly, in his mouth, and her squeaking and yelling out an _'Ow, don't bite me idiot!'_. Well, she asked for it.

But she got all pouty and turned away from him, strainig her eyes on TV. And of course, he, being the idiot he was, tried to make it up to her.

And he turned out to be her personal heater, as she shoved her feet under his tee and on his abdomen with a delighted smile. _' I will forgive you for this'_ . He spluttered out an 'what the fuck', because her toes were cold-like ice, _ice_ cold.

She reminded him with another feet-versus-face shove under his eyes that _he had bitten her_, the big half circle still angry-red on her instep. With a sigh he shoved her feet back on his chest and started rubbing them througt the fabric.

Maka was a cruel, cold-blooded witch.

(Why didn't she want to make it up to him for the previous dick-shove with her foot?! He had his own rights damnit it!)

* * *

_**One look could kill, My pain, your thrill.**_

Sometimes throught the years he came to think that it induced a great pleasure to her. Maybe it did, maybe it didn't. Maka never answered his constant question of 'Fuck! Are you a sadist?', only smiled at him gleefully. Maka-chops were her deadly thing. But if making him whimper on the floor gave her joy...

Sometimes she looked at him and it killed him on the inside. The look she gave him shriveled his soul, shredded his lungs with his _own_ ribs and pushed his stomach in his throat. Oh, how he loved her withering glares...

She was one dangerous, deadly, book-wielding girl.

He still loved her.

(It may have been his masochistic alterego showing.)

* * *

_**I wanna love you, but I better not touch (don't touch)**_

"_Don't touch!" And he listens, because he is a good an obedient weapon. He sighs quietly, puts his arms to his sides and lets her do her job. _

_Maka is sitting in his lap, having him quivering from the great loads of pleasure she is delivering. _

"_Does It feel good Soul?__" He thinks her voice is a bit slutty, and can only grunt out his yes, his mind going momenterily blank from the sudden twist of her hands. _

"_Fuuuuuuck," he gritts out. And he closes his eyes, because, even if he wants to see her face and her arms that work magic on his body, and how she pants from the slight exertion, the sensations are too much for him to take at the moment. _"_Oh Goooood, Makah… Your hands are heaven…" _

"_Thanks, I know." She smiles at him lovingly __(__or at least he hopes so). She continues with her ministrations, making him putty in her arms.  
_

"_Bend your head more to the right, you've got yourself a resistent knot over there."_

_So he does as she says, and Maka's hands start working on his neck. He groans slightly. "Too much?", to which he nodds eagerly. She eases the pressure she is putting in his neck and he sighs once again, ocasionally grunting out an 'fuck', or 'yeah, right there, right there'._

_Maka stops and he resists the urge to whimper. "Lay on your stomach," she orders, and then climbs out of his lap, to let him turn around. He discards his tee carelessly, and lays down on his bed, the soft sheets pleasantly cool on his heated flesh. She then sits on his ass, puts her hand on his back and starts unraveling the tight knots there. _

_Being a weapon has some perks, afterall._

_(But__, how he wishes her hands were massaging his… erm, little friend, instead of his shoulders.)_

* * *

_**I wanna hold you, but my senses tell me to stop**_

He squashed the need to reach out and take that tiny, girly hand in his. It would be extremely uncool thing to do so, as his thirteen year old self constantly reminded him.

But he wanted to touch it so badly. Was it that bad that he was a closet snuggle-bunny? Bot, no, it would be weird and unmanly.

Because they only really holded hands on extreme occasions- like in the battle or when she needed his assurance that he would not leave her, like her momma did, or when her papa constantly dissapointed her.

Yet now, it wasn't one of those rare and precious occasions. No, now it was only an average, sunny day in Death-city, seven fortyfive am, with both of them currently climbing the endless stairs of one Shibusen accademy.

No way he could reach out and take it damnit!

(But after years of sharing a common _life_, he had finally mustered the courage, and, in the end, it was totally worth it.)

* * *

_**I wanna kiss you but I want it too much**_

He wanted Maka so much to notice him, noticing her. _Come on look, look..._

But she was blind. Blind to all his attempts at wooing her to him, at making her understand that he wanted her, without actually saying it out loud.

Hell! He even tried flirting with her once (okay, maybe _many more_ times) but she didn't see each and every attempt of his, only miscalculated it for him trying to make fun of her (Fuck! He knew that all his previous tiny-tits comments would come and bite him in the ass one day).

He probably wanted too much from her.

Like right now- he wanted to leap across the tiny table in ice-cream parlor, grab her in his arms and press those _delicious_ lips to his own…

He gulped audibly and looked at the show Maka was presenting- she stuck out her little tongue and made a small gyrating movements on the surface of her melting vanilla ice-cream. _Fuuuuck..._

He groaned. This was worse than being exposed to ten consecutive chops done with a hard-cover encyclopedia.

"What's wrong Soul?" He could't exactly come out with the truth: 'I wanna kiss you right now' so he only shrugged and continued licking his lemon sherbet. Damn him, and his desires...

(Because if he wanted something too much it turned out all wrong, so he would lend her all the time in the world, if she needed it.)

* * *

_**I wanna taste you, but your lips are venomous poison**_

Her eyes blaze as she screams yet another thing at him. He wastes no time in reacting back, throwing in his comment about her today incompetence in the field and how she had gotten man-handled by Black Star. Their kitchen echoes their thrown words right back at them.

She wheezes and he knows that he had crossed some very grave border.

But he is to deep in to care. Her eyes are slitted and a venomous shade of green, almost glowing on her face. Just the way he has always feared. Her lips spit poison at him- her hair probably stands up and crackles with her wrath.

He should probably stop, but _no,_ he is on the roll, so he continues with few more (many more) nasty things he doesn't even mean.

Maka shrieks indignantly, like a Hellheim monster, and a loud 'slap!' echoes throught the apartment.

He is startled. Utterly and completely startled. His cheek stings, and he can feel her hand print start to show up. His eyes bulge out. The silence is absolute, nothing moves, even the microwave clock seems to stop it's cticking. Somehow, the slap is worse than any other abuse he has ever received.

He reachs tenderly up, to touch his cheek, but then changes the direction to her still outstreched shaking hand.

Her palm is an angry shede of red, and shaking a bit, little tremors running from her fingers to her elbow. He examines her hand and strokes her palm, feeling so bad for making her feel sad and angry and _sorry, _that she had to resort to violonce_ ._ This everything he can sense from the gap in the barrier of her soul.

And then comes his muttered 'sorry.'

(And if she finds weird he kissed her hands after, she doesn't comment.)

* * *

_**You're poison runnin through my veins  
You're poison, I don't wanna break these chains.**_

She was what kept him going, moving breathing. The one that purified the insanity in his blood, the one that fighted his inner demons, when he didn't have the strenght. Always fighting for him.

She was his addiction. The thing that helped him live but at the same thing killed him- he couldn't have her whole. Never all of her.

(She was his nicotine, the poison in his veins, that he wouldn't ever try to give up.)

* * *

_**Your mouth, so hot**_

_Her hot mouth was on his. This couldn't be... _

_His eyes attempted to fall out of their sockets. W- wha- What?_

_Maka was looking dirrectly in his eyes, and he got a little crosseyed, from trying to look directly back in hers. The cheers and hollers of __'Happy New Year!' __of their fellow party-goers were loud in his ears, but didn't disrupt him from kissing her back with as much vigor as she had presented when she jumped him three seconds ago. _

_She closed her eyes, and he allowed himself to relax a bit. Afterall he could still throw the on the alcohol (even if his level of intoxication clearly wasn't as high as hers) if she threw a tanthrum later on. But he wouldn't probably remember anything in the morning, seeing as her breath had that heavy booze undertone._

_But in the meantime, he allowed himself to enjoy, what little he could get._

_(He strictly forbid himself to think that Maka enjoyed their thryst. Fos his own sanity's sake...)_

* * *

_**Your web, I'm caught**_

Maka had him wrapped around her little finger. Wrapped upp with a heavy restraining marine rope. No way would she would ever get him to do something like this, else.

...

He was dressed in tiny frilly pink skirty-apron thing. The coulour hurt his eyes- it was glittering and reflecting sun from the miriards of glitters sewed into the fabric... It was shorlty, hideous.

"OH, Fuck. Soul! Your god heavily approves! Fuck yeah man, Maka had domesticated you fully!"

His obnoxious laugh then treathened to destroy ear-drums of every person present on Maka's 'Welcome home party'. Soul showed a vulgar gest with his fairy stick with a star on top, in Black Star's face. Yeah, so what? Being dressed like a fairy was a totally cool thing to do!

(The fucker could just suck it up, he was promised a _threat_ once everything was over.)

* * *

_**Your skin, so wet  
Black lace on sweat**_

_Her face was flushed, the blush a deep red colour, reaching down her chest. He took a notice of this as he teased her nipple gently with his teeth, the black lace of her bra pushed to the side._

"_Maka… You are all red…"_

_She muffles out an: "shad- shadd up!"_

_He chuckles, because, how much more cute could she get__?__ And then he latches back on her neck. She heaves deeply in his ear and he shivers expectantly. Yeah this was going to be good..._

_The small dark room is full of their mutual heavy breathing, the air starting to get heavy and hot, resembling sauna. She is ready just as he is- he reminds her of this, with his lips pressed to her ear, that she is 'so wet already'. She huffs at his comment, and he resists the urge to crush her cheek against his and have a snuggle session with her. That would just kill the moment..._

_She squeezes him with her legs, wrapped around his waist, pressing their lower parts together more urgently._

_Wwhich just makes him topple over her and then to the side. He crashs into the walls full of cleaners. The whole shelf just falls over them, well, mostly over him, as he tries to shade Maka from the horde of falling sprays and bottles of disinfection products. He leans heavily on the wall and crushes her with his chest. One of the heavy bottles falls on his back with as much force as if it was thrown by Shinigami himself, as a punishment for getting it on in the janitors closet.. ._

_When the downpour stops. They just both look at each other and mutualy agrre on escaping. Thez quickly distangle their limbs, and make it a dash out of the incriminated area of school._

_(The incident comes to the history, when a anonymous janitor, cleaning the halls of Shibusen, slips on the spilled cleaners and brokes her arm... students name it __'The heavy session in janitors'.__)_

* * *

_**I hear you callin and it's needles and pins (and pins)**_

She was calling out to him. Again. The corridor is dark-he had to feel his way to her room. The wall was cool under his fingers, but not nearly as cold as he feelt when another cry tore from her room.

Her nightmares just got worse over past two weeks, after they came home from a particularly gruessome mission. Even if she hadn't told him, he was pretty sure that it still haunted her. Truth to be told, if he was in her place, his reactions would be the same.

He quietly oppened her door and squinted in the dark. He could see her silhoute outlined by the moon light. She was curled up, like a child on the sheets. The sight had gotten engraved in his mind, just to haunt him in his dreams later.

So she was awake- she lifted her head when she heard her door creaking. She sat up and dried her ters with her sleeve. He sat down next to her and opened his arms for her to comfortably fall into them and take comfort in him.

(She fell asleep like that curled on top of him for next three weeks. It made him giddy that he could support her in some way...)

* * *

_**I wanna hurt you just to hear you screaming my name**_

He wants. He_ wants._

_And it__'s driving him insane. _

The blackness curles aroud his fingers as he pounds in the keys of his piano, the glossy surface reflecting _their _madness. She sits on top of it, listening to him with a crazy smile of hers.

He wants to wipe it of her face, to make it twist into a frown or maybe a scream that would shake her body out of every drop of her blood. Red blood he would taint black, black, _black_…

His music reachs crescendo, the pictures of his desires floating freely in the expanse of his soul. Maka whips her head around to see each of them. The grin on her lips stretchs out and out, until it splits her head in two parts.

Her teeth grow sharp points, and she looks like him, like the demon in a suit that represents his self- this makes him full of poisonous glee.

Now she can tear just as he can- tear into the soul of his prey, into flesh, in their bones…

She giggles, her head thrown back, curled into insane position. It goes nicely with the flow of his dark music- her giggles pitch-perfectly following his melody.

She stands up, on his piano, the skirts of her dress whirling around her, and jumps down on his lap. That makes him stop his playing, because she grabs his arms and presses them to her mouth, sucking on his fingers and kissing his palms. Her eyes are glinting black spheres, jutting from her white face, all black, like the pupil had swallowed her whole eyes. He doesn't know when it happened.

Everything is black, her hair, her dress, her soul-it's as if he was looking throught a negative. Black like the nothingness all around them.

He starts to freak, slowly coming to his senses, the blackness letting him go, creeping into her instead.

She is just sinister with her head cocked to the side, her pigtails swishing back and forth in the nonexistent wind. She wets her lips. Her tongue is black too. Her smile grows again to that face-splitting grin. His blackness spills from the corners of her mouth, dripps with loud 'splat' on her collar bones, hands, his shirt and pants…

He is awake now, wrested fully from the clutches of his black blood.

But she isn't. His music had made _this_ from her, had created the moster in his lap. _This is bad._

She clutches the front of his shirt and balls her fingers around the strained red fabric. His struggles are vain- she just pulls him closer with fgreat force, closer and closer to her gaping, dripping mouth...

He closes his eyes, the last sight he ever seeswon't be this.

Her hot breath fans over his ear, moist, the blackness dripping on his shoulder.

"_Haaahh…Scream~…"_

…

Next time he opens his eyes he is floating in the void of madness. Hours, days, he doesn't know- the time is lost in this dimmension..

But the comes a surprise. A small orb of yellow light, floats towards him.

Maka, Thetreal Maka came to save him.

* * *

_**Don't wanna touch you, but you're under my skin (deep in)**_

She had gotten under his skin. At first it made him uncomfortable to live with someone, to be so open with someone, especially with a _girl_... But she was anything like the chick he first pictured her to be.

Yes she was annoying as hell sometimes, and bashed his head in (He was a guy! He couldn't help his nosebleeds!) and made him move his lazy ass...

But she was also listening whenever he needed, was the first one to actually take a notice in him, to be interested with him. The first one who cared for him apart from his one who comforted him, when things didn't go his way, supported him in his maddness. Loved him purely and honestly (and platonicaly, as he sourly reminded himself).

She was his missing piece, under his skin and deep in his soul.

(And when he had gotten first time under _her skin... _Man, that was one _hella_ of a ride...)

* * *

_**I wanna kiss you, but your lips are venomous poison**_

_**You're poison runnin through my veins**_  
_**You're poison, I don't wanna break these chains**_  
_**Poison**_


	5. Sharp elbows

**A.N: So a one-shot. Hmmm. This was actually laying in my computer for about a year. And okay this may be turned into a story, cuz i've got the rest written, just not finished. **

**Hmmmm.**

**Silly me.**

* * *

The loud bass of music thumps around her, reverbrating throught her whole body. She can feel how her bones clatter, and her joints shake, and her lungs do that boom-boom in sync with rhytm. There comes a loud drop in the bass, and current song shifts into other one.

She whips out her phone. Two or three people slam into her, sharp elbows and knees involved. They don't even acknowledge her. Or that they probably broke her ribs.

_Rude jerks._

She opts for ventilating her anger with few deep breaths and counting to ten, instead of coming for the assholes like an angel of vengeance. _One, two, three… _

_God, the air is so gross…_

She hurriedly taps in hi_s_ number. Another one slams into her, this time surprising her with an apology. She certainly doesn't expect the cheeery 'Sorry' and reacts a moment too late with her 'It's okay, nothing happened'. His back is already swallowed by the thong of poeople- the club is crowded, full to the brink with mass of all ages and cultures.

Why are there so many of them anyway?

…On this beautiful Friday evening? Near the end of semester, after nearly all of the tests are written, and nobody is preocupied?

Okay bad question. She can imagine why.

She is just like them, wants to...Okay, is forced to live a little (because, _no_, she wasn't pestered about' having a stick so far up her ass, he could actually see it popping out her head'), and being no exception to this... This rule, sours her mood a little. Apparently she is just another one of the mindless flock.

Fuck her.

She could have stayed in the dorms, being perfectly fine with reading her notes for her biology test next week. _She is in her junior year, damnit! She has no time to waste it in bars!_ Her phone rings, the hollow beep-beep of waiting getting on her nerves. It beeps five times, six times, seven...

_'Pick up. Pick up. Pick up!'_

Her mood progresses from bad to astrocious. She is so irritated, the number of beeps past twenty, opened bio-chemistry textbook mocking her in her mind, the incompetence of the couple behind her, that just _kept giggling_...

It all blends together creating a great mix of dangerous anger. And when some gargantuan hipster stomps on her foot, she wastes no time screaming at him, proper demaneour be damned.

He looks much like a deer in the headlights; his shoulders hunched foward, head ducked in between them, eyes widened and nearly popping out. She feels a bit bad, for yelling at some peacefull giant, but her temper is flaring and she decides she doesn't care. _Feel the wrath of god, you stupid giraffe._

She is in middle of yelling an _'You big elephant fucker you wanna go at it with me, asshole_!?' when _he_ picks it up, succesfully catching the last few words of her sentence.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, tiger. You handin' out invitations to other guys? Tsk. I am soooo hurt..." The mock disappontment in his voice only boils her bubble of anger further. She growls in the phone, because, shit, the receiver of her abuse has evaporated swiftly, his mop of orange hair succesfully disapperaring in the mass of people, and she has no one to vent on.

"You have to choose worst time for picking up."

"So you were wooing someone after all! Guess some BDSM by the sounds of it? "

She wheezes in her phone and he laughs on the other side, the rich baritone of his voice soothing her mood. DJ starts up the light show, shooting red and blue lights in every direction, hiting her, as if on purpose, square in the face.

"Or I just totally saved you ass. Elephant fucker, really?"

At her seething silence he adds: "Yeah, you know, no need to thank me."

She snorts, because, as if she would ever thank him; she breaths in the humid and smelly air, tries to soothe her nerves, then says: "I was wondering what ate you, you slowpoke, it took you ages to answer–"

He laughs at the other side and says something akin to 'too much noise, be happy I had seen you call'. He says something else she can't hear, but smiles nonetheless because she can imagine just perfectly what he has said.

She holds her phone tightly to her ear, blocking out the noise with her other hand. It's one futile attempt, beacause no matter how hard she presses the plastic device to her ear she can still hear Deadmau5 in the background. "Anyway, where are you?" She asks and then notices that there has been created an vacant place around, with her standing in the middle. _Good. Let them feel the wrath_...

"I just checked the whole place and there is no trace of you anywhere–" She makes a small pause and then as an afterthought she adds: "Did you stood me up? Because I swear to God if you did–" She trails of menacingly, even if she knows he is present in the club. For one he would never stand her up (not even for one of his bimbos) and for two, she could hear the heavy bass on his side of the connection too.

There is a rich laughter coming from him, which makes her own smirk grow.

The couple in front of her–a short boy and a really tall girl– slinks off at the sight of her. She supposes she has made a really bad first impression with the Orange-head. Not that she cares...

"Hey, chill it tiger," there is a certain fondness to his tone, something that makes her giddy with exciment for finally seeing him after three weeks–really, not seeing best friend for that long of a period of time should be forbidden–but she has been busy–major in biochemistry, remember?–and he had his own matters to attend to too.

"Am sittin' at our usual."

"Oh, yeah?...Are you shitting me? I checked there five minutes ago and you weren't there! I can actually see it from where I'm standing! There is some freaky _skin head_ sitting over there, no wonder, alone. His head is normally shinning from the light..."

She checks again. Yeah, no Soul miraculously apppeared, much less 'Sittin' at their usual.' She is fairly certain she would have spotted him; he was like a peacock on the snow with his white hair. One hella of eye sore as she used to say for her tiny-tits comebacks...

"Look better."

"What?" she asks, incredulity dripping from the one syllabe she says.

"Okay, gosh, what are you, stupid!? Tell me your coordinates."

"Oh," She looks around and then continues, "I stand near the top of stairs, the bar is under me, I think? WC is behind my back and I am... about, twenty feet from the exit?"

"Okay, fine, now watch the skinhead real close..."

So she looks down at the bottom floor, squints her eyes and looks at the sitting stranger with shiny head, who lifts his arm and... Proceeds to lift his middle finger in her general direction.

_Just what does the jerkwad think..._

...Wait. What? Just what the... oh. _Oh_.

Her eyes widen as it all cliks together. She snorts, and then goes to a full blown laughter. She can't see clearly, with the tears that start to leak from her eyes. Her guffaws attract, yet again, the stares of bystanders. They probably think she is crazy. But everything is momentarilly forgotten because _This __**can't**__ be true_. She can hear his annoyed voice on the other side, muttering about how 'uncool she was being' and 'god, couldn't she be any more discrete?'.

"Oh. My. _GOD._" She hates to sound like som hipster-teenage-valley-bimbo, but this is just hilarious. "You didn't do what I think you did. Please, _say_ you didn't..."

She can hear him snarl out an 'shadd up', and only know realizes that the supposed skin head is holding a phone to his ear, the red light reflecting from the plastic of _his_ black phone.

"If you could, _please,_ get your loud ass down here..."

She tries to calm down. Tries again. Tries really hard, putting up a honest effort, but little chuckles escape her every now and then as she makes her way over to him. She is by his side in few minutes, twirling in the crowd to escape sharp weapons in form of elbows, kneecaps, and feet.

The skinhead... _Soul_, turns around. She is greeted by a scowl, that just breaks her hard earned façade in an instant_. Let's see what's the universe done this time. _

"Hey!"

She only nodds her aknowledgement; the only thing she is capable of at the moment. She presses her lips so hard together they actually start to hurt. _Don't laugh._ _Don't oogle him. Don't oogle him, keep your mouth shut, don't say anything..._

"Nice skull." _Damnit._

He gives her desert-dry look, clearly saying 'give me a break, will ya?'. She aks anyway, if what she produces could be considered words. "No, really, what happened?"

He mouths a 'not gonna say' to her and turns away, his bottom lip jutted out, like one a petulant child.

Okay, if he was going for this ignoring thing she could do it too. Two could play this game.

She plops down opposite of him, and looks in the direction where he is not in her view (she fears she might just burst out laughing).

_Let the ignore games begin._

* * *

...She is faling miserably. _After three minutes_. Despite her best attempts she keeps looking him, her tongue itching for more... Fuck being discrete, she will get it out of him no matter what reinforcemets she will need to use.

Soul notices her fidgeting and leans the farthest he can on his chair, for the sake of his safety. He tries to look elsewhere, but he can't; her whine brings his eyes back to her.

_Here goes nothing_. She pulls on her greatest ace- big, sparkly eyes, tears in the corners, plump pouting lips- he can feel himself giving in, already opening his mouth.

"I lost a bet two weeks ago." He breaks to her, voice gruff and annoyed. "Star made me go to barber and cut my hair the shortest fucking possible... It's horrific."

She blinks at him owlishly, while she digests his words. "You mean like, you are...Not actually bald?" She asks disbelievingly.

"...No? I mean, it's not my fault that my hair is _white_ and it looks like I _am_ bald for real? It's just that short... Hey!...Asshat! Stop laughing!"

She tries to stiffle her giggles behind her fists. "You look like an army mutt. I swear. Just _ready to salute_." She pulls a stoic face and mock salutes him. "Aww come on, stop giving me that look, It's not my fault you have lost some stupid bet."

He groans, planting his face firmly to the surface of the table.

"Also, stop that Soul, you never know how many hepatitis positive touched it before you," she adds, not offering him any kind of comfort.

"Shut up, clean-freak," he mutters, stubbornly smooching the glass pane of the table with his face. She reaches out for his hair- _which isn't there- _to lift his head from the table, lest he catches some crawling disgusting bacteria. _No one wants a best friend with bacteria._ And because she can't handle him by his hair anymore, she settles for the second best option- she pulls him up by his ears. His eyes are teary by the time she manages to get him into normal sitting position.

"Fuck! Why would you do that?"

"You know, a normal person would consider _not_ kissing table tops when he has been informed that they are _dirtier_ than toilet bowls…"

He stops her midsentence. "No, I meant: Why _ears? Why_?"

"Cuz', duhh, they are the only way of getting a hold of you?" He looks at her disbelievingly- she acts like Black Star- and goes again for settlling himself on the table.

"Don't you dare…" He just shruggs to her threat, but takes her seriously this time- he instead leans on his backrest.

Red eyes watch her carefully as she extends both arms, once again, towards his face. He keeps stoic mask, but moves his head back on his neck to still have her grabby hands in his line of sight.

"What are you doing now?" He asks when she is finally more or less laying on the table and he is swinging backwards on his chair just to keep her from touching him.

"What does it look like genius? I'm trying to cop a feel or two."

She pretends she doesn't see his blush, crediting it to the red lights of club instead. So what. She didn't mean it like that; it was wholly his fault for having a dirty mind. He sighs reluctantly and leans the chair back in its place, it's front legs no more air-floating.

She allows her hands to run through what is left of his hair. His white silky tresses are gone, replaced with prickling short hairs. Weird sensations crawl up her hand when she pets his goner hair in opposite directionof its growth; it feels like they spike up under her hand. She likes it- it's a pleasant feeling- and continues quite absorbed with her ministrations.

Until she hears his loud gulp.

With horror she realizes, that she had been showing him everything she had under her green tank top.

With a small yelp she shoves away his face with both her hands, yelling out: "Pervert! Pervert! _Pervert!_"

The fact that she wants him to look at her chest- _naked_ chest, mind you- only embarasses her further; she scrambles back and off the table, horrified with her dirty mind, all the way internally yelling at herself.

And yet, the thought of _him, watching_ her is still buried in her mind. She takes three terapeutic breaths and then looks at him- he is cursing loudly, his words muffled by him holding his nose, the red blood leaking from between his fingers–Wait, blood?

_Oh God, she must have broken his nose!_ She scrambles right back on the table, cursing loudly herself, and apologizing wildly. He just shoves her hands away- no need to let her stain herself with his blood, his shirt soaked enough for both of them. That will be one nice way home, _murderer_.

_Why isn't she abusing his head already?_ He ponders on this fact while she shoves fistful of kleenex under his nose. He looks at her aghastly; she keeps on apologizing for smashing his nose, and not knowing her own strength and all other shit.

_Oh yeah. Just…keep thinking that. Don't think I got nosebleed over your tits…_

They end up sitting awkwardly, turned other ways; with him looking like he has just killed a small baby bunny, little tissue balls peeking from his nose; and her fidgeting on her stool.

Soul clears his throat. She looks him in the eye. Smiles are exchanged. The tension between them vanishes in an instant; both of them visibly relaxing. The silence stretches on thought.

_Say something Soul, man, anything_…

"So, uhh, I was thinking, would you come and watch something this Friday? It's… We haven't been hanging out lately and I wanted to… I wanted to keep sure you are like, not mad on me or something?"

She breaths out.

"Oh? Oh, no, no. I-I just… I…I didn't want to disturb you and Anna…" She winces at the memory of how said girl had once told her off, and (more than once) accused her of trying to steal 'Her Soul'. The girl didn't seem to like her a bit, jealous of the friendship Soul and Maka harbored.

That was the main reson (beside studying for midterms) she kept her distance. "She didn't seem to like me, I think…"

"Well, no need to avoid me now… She broke up with me. Two weeks ago."

"What?" Maka gritts out, feeling her anger rise again. _That bitch…_

"You know, " he gestures to his non-present hair, "for hair and stuff. Said that I looked weird without it. Also our relationship was going down longer. I was… Apparently, I was being snappy and too 'cocky' with her." He swallows down the fact that he was, truth to be told, worse and worse with her the longer she was with him. The fault wasn't in Anna herself- it was mainly in him (to start with, he already liked someone else- small. Blonde. Green eyed. Sitting opposite him with disbelieving look).

He didn't want to be with Anna in the first place, just choose a random nice girl as a rebound; a dickish move he knew, but, he needed it.

"I'm sorry..." Except she wasn't, really. "But you seem to be okay enough. You don't need me to bring Pawn Stars DVD and a big box of break-up pizza, do you?"

He laughs and says 'no,no , I am a Man, no need to '.

"So does that mean you will come?"

"Yeah, sure. Won't let my fella hangining," she imitates Star, "but. I just sorta-maybe-really need you...To come for me?"

"Uhh sure...Something's up with your car, or what?"

She gritts out 'Please remind me to never let my father borrow my car. Ever.' Soul laughs, and she is relieved that Anna doesn't seem to bother him anymore; she smiles herself.

"On second tought...That pizza sounds like good plan. Gotta make myself gain some sexy-weight, afterall."

"You know what, you sexy-weight? What about you jump up and bring me a drink?"


End file.
